


Misery Loves Company

by id_shade



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Breathplay, Cunnilingus, Drunk Sex, F/F, F/M, Foursome - F/F/M/M, Grieving, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Whipping, post 3b, well... hurt to comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 12:49:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/id_shade/pseuds/id_shade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nogitsune did a lot of damage. They keep telling Stiles it wasn't his fault, but those words aren't doing much for anyone anymore. Lydia and Scott need to vent. They all need to work past this, even if it means someone gets hurt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misery Loves Company

Lydia didn’t like Stiles spending so much time with Malia.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Malia. All things considered, she seemed nice enough. It was only when Lydia saw her with Stiles that her skin began to crawl just a bit. She watched them now, half-sitting on the front front bumper of Stiles’ jeep. Between them, they were holding a bottle of whiskey, leaning in close and laughing quietly over some shared joke.

 

Lydia felt it again; a weight on her heart then that all-over cold, unpleasant feeling. She didn’t think for a second it was jealously or longing. Whatever existed between her and Stiles was a dilemma for another day. What she was feeling now was an altogether more sinister feeling; one she suspected Scott was feeling too.

 

He was sitting on her right. When Scott had mentioned heading out into the woods to hang out that night, Lydia had borrowed her mother’s car; the hatchback that rarely got used. The rear door was up and the back seats were down. Lydia had a wine cooler between her knees. Scott had the second bottle of whiskey, the one with just a little wolfsbane in it. It was the easiest way for a werewolf to get drunk, he’d said. (Assuming said werewolf didn’t mind a hangover of biblical proportions.) Scott was frowning now, watching Stiles and Malia.

Stiles glanced away from Malia as he took the bottle from her. Lydia looked down at her own drink before their eyes could meet, but he seemed to catch their expressions anyway. He stopped laughing. When Lydia looked back up, he wasn’t smiling anymore.

 

Malia’s own laughter trailed off as she looked from Stiles to Lydia and Scott, uncertain. “This isn’t going to do anything, huh?” she asked, indicating the bottle she had been sharing with Stiles, making an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from any residual awkwardness. She leaned away from the jeep and walked to Scott. “Let me have some more of that.”

 

Scott handed the bottle over to Malia. “Be careful,” he warned, sliding away from Lydia so that she could sit between them. Lydia felt the car dip a little with the added weight. She was watching Stiles again, trying to catch his eye and offer him a smile. He wasn’t looking anymore, though.

 

They’d all been drinking for a while now. Lydia drained her wine cooler and reached for another. It was the temperature of the night, cool to the touch. It was her third, and she had never been a big drinker. She was already tipsy. After this one, she knew she wouldn’t chance driving home. None of them would at this rate.

 

Things had been awkward lately. They hadn’t been spending as much time together. It hadn’t been a bad idea, even if Malia had invited herself along. Maybe it was better she had. Now that they were out here alone, it was pretty distressing to see how much their original high school clique had shrunk.

 

Malia took a pull on the bottle before handing it back to Scott. For a while there were only the noises of the forest and the occasional clink and slosh of bottles. The drunker everyone got, the less they wanted to talk… Or rather, they wanted to talk, they just didn’t trust themselves to do it. Lydia sighed, breaking the silence. “I miss Allison,” she said, broaching one of the topics no one wanted to mention. It felt like the safest one. She felt all eyes on her after that, if only for a few seconds before Scott and Stiles murmured in agreement then lapsed into silence again.

 

Stiles looked uncomfortable now, though; shifting the bottle in his hands and sort of twitching as he leaned against the bumper. Lydia saw his lips move but didn’t hear what he said.

 

“Stiles?” called Lydia, getting his attention. “What?”

 

Stiles looked up from the bottle. He stared at everyone in the hatchback. He started to shake his head but seemed to think better of it.

 

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, louder this time.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Scott said automatically.

 

Stiles started to look away again, but an exasperated grunt from Malia drew everyone’s attention back. Her eyes widened when everyone looked at her. “Was that loud?”

 

“What?” asked Scott. His tone wasn’t angry, just sort of disapproving.

 

“Nothing. Am I drunk?” asked Malia, leaning back against her hands. “I’ve never gotten drunk before.”

 

“What?” asked Lydia, giving Malia a light kick to the ankle. Her tone _was_ angry.

 

“Guys,” began Stiles, trying to defuse the situation.

 

The apprehensive smile slid from Malia’s face. She sat up a little straighter, albeit swaying a bit. “I don’t know.” But she did seem to know. She was just searching for the right words. “You guys… You guys make me nauseous.”

 

Now Lydia was sitting up straighter, too. “ _Excuse me?_ ”

 

“Not like that,” Malia said, quickly. “It’s just…” She reached for the bottle, drank, cringed, and began again. “I killed my mom and my sister.”

 

Lydia watched Malia, unsure of where this was going. “That wasn’t your-”

 

“Yes!” Malia snapped, cutting Lydia off and startling her. “I wasn’t in control, but it was… They wouldn’t be dead if I hadn’t been there.” She sighed. “I haven’t worked up the nerve to tell my dad, but this… This shit gives me nightmares. If I told him and he tried to act like it _didn’t_ keep him up nights. If he was… what is it? Passive aggressive? Is that right?”

 

Scott was staring at her. “You think we’re being passive aggressive?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m still not sure that’s the word… words I’m looking for.” Malia started to take another drink, but Scott took the bottle away from her.

 

“We’re not… What do you mean?” Scott didn’t wait for Malia to answer, he looked toward the jeep. “Stiles?”

 

Stiles made a noncommittal hand gesture and tried to look busy with the logistics of finishing his whiskey.

 

“You’re angry. He killed a lot of people,” Malia whispered.

 

“He wasn’t-” Scott started to whisper back, but Malia shook her head.

 

“It’s fine… That you’re angry, not that people are dead.” Malia glanced at Stiles. She stopped whispering. “If it was me and my dad… I’d rather he just say what he felt. All of it. That can’t be good, keeping everything bottled up inside. He couldn’t hate me more for that than I hate myself. At least if he let it all out, maybe we could get past it.”

 

Scott shook his head. Lydia didn’t say anything. She was remembering the feeling from before, the way her skin crawled when she saw Stiles with Malia. She could place the feeling now, place it as something not unlike resentment. Stiles being happy, smiling again while she was still crying herself to sleep some nights.

 

God, what an awful feeling; resenting a friend for a few moments of joy, like they hadn’t earned it yet.

 

“I, uh… I agree with all that.” Stiles was the one breaking an awkward silence this time. “If you have anything to get off your chest, I wish you just would.”

 

Scott snorted, trying to play the idea off like it was laughable. “There’s no point. I don’t blame you for any of this. It wasn’t you who did all those things. It-”

 

Lydia reached across Malia to Scott. She put a hand across his chest, silencing him. She’d seen the way Stiles’ posture drooped, defeated. Scott had been through this so many times, the words sounded empty even to Lydia. It certainly wasn’t what Stiles seemed to want. “You first, Stiles. Tell us how you feel.”

 

Stiles didn’t even pause to think about it. “I wish I was dead.”

 

Lydia popped Scott on the chest before he could say anything. He huffed, shifted away from Lydia, and took a drink.

 

“I don’t mean I wish I would drop dead now or anything,” Stiles clarified, words stilted somewhat by emotion and alcohol. “It’s not like I’m suicidal… I just, maybe, wish I had been back when this first started. The things I remembered doing- It should have pushed me to try and put a stop to it right then. If I hadn’t come back when we sacrificed ourselves for our parents- I wasn’t strong enough to close my door. I let it in, and now Allison’s dead.” Stiles’ breathing hitched at the last couple of words. It took him a moment to continue. “A lot of people are dead. When I was dying, toward the end there, I was relieved. I didn’t know how I was supposed to face you guys every day. I still don’t, I…” He leaned back heavily against the jeep. After a few seconds he just shrugged.

 

Lydia dropped her hand from Scott’s chest. She noticed Malia making furtive glances at both her and Scott. It was their turn to say something, but it wasn’t exactly her place to tell them that. Lydia sure didn’t know what to say. “Scott?” she prompted, hoping he did.

 

“I don’t…” Scott looked away from Stiles and down, considering the bottle in his hands. “I guess… I guess sometimes it’s hard looking at you and not think about… that thing.”

 

Lydia looked at Stiles, trying to gauge his reaction. He was staring at Scott, waiting for more. Scott just looked at Lydia, implying it was her turn. Lydia shook her head, “This is like when they had me talking to a counselor. I’m no good at this.”

 

“Neither am I,” Scott said immediately, sounding relieved. He turned back to Stiles. “I’m sorry, man. It’s complicated, I guess, but… I just can’t…”

 

“Then punch me.” Stiles suggested it so fast, Lydia wasn’t sure she had heard him right.

 

“What?” It was the same for Scott, apparently.

 

“Get it out. I don’t care how. Just… please.” Stiles sounded breathless, desperate. He reached out, motioning Scott over.

 

Scott handed his drink to Malia and stood. He went to the jeep, closing the distance between himself and Stiles. Lydia watched him take his best friend by the shoulders. They were both unsteady on their feet, swaying slightly as they brought their heads together, speaking quietly. Lydia couldn’t hear what was being said. She looked at Malia, but Malia was pointedly ignoring them all. This wasn’t her business, not really.

 

There was a soft thud and Lydia’s attention snapped back to Scott and Stiles. She gave a small and startled shriek. Stiles was reeling back. Scott had him by the front of the shirt, pulling him upright and keeping him steady. His free hand went around to the side of Stiles’ head as it lolled a bit. The wolfsbane had made Scott weak but not so weak he couldn’t do some real damage.

 

“Scott!” Lydia snapped, but Stiles just waved his hand.

 

“It’s fine,” said Stiles; then to Scott: “It’s fine.”

 

“Too hard?” asked Scott.

 

Stiles shook his head.

 

Scott took his hand from Stiles’ face, fingers twitching hesitantly into a fist. “Tell me if I’m really hurting you.”

 

“You can hurt me.”

 

“You know what I mean,” Scott warned and Stiles nodded. “Promise.”

 

“Believe it or not, I’m not actually looking to cause everyone I care about _more_ problems.” Stiles attempted a smile, but it didn’t really take. He nodded again, assuming a more solemn tone. “I promise.”

 

The hand Scott had on Stiles’ shoulder moved around to his back. His fist came in quick, connecting just below Stiles’ ribs. Lydia cringed when he doubled over, but she said nothing this time. She finished her wine cooler instead, watching Scott land several more punches, driving Stiles to the ground. Between each one, he paused, taking a moment to square Stiles up and make eye contact with him.

 

Malia watched the whole thing from beside Lydia, expression impassive. A couple of times, she glanced over at Lydia, like she was wondering why she wasn’t get involved. Lydia didn’t immediately. She finished her drink first, letting her tingly tipsy feeling become a more relaxed all-over one. By the time she walked over, Stiles was on his back in the dirt. Scott was on top of him, having just delivered a sharp backhand to his jaw. Both boys looked up when she came closer.

 

“Let me,” said Lydia, tapping Scott on the shoulder. He moved away and she took his place, getting down on her knees and straddling Stiles, heedless of her bare legs or the fact that she was wearing a skirt. She felt him grow tense beneath her. “Is this all right?” she asked softly.

 

“Yeah,” said Stiles, choking on the word for a second but recovering. His nose was bleeding. Twin rivulets of blood ran down the sides of his face and over his lips; the bottom one was split.

 

Lydia ran a thumb over his split lip. She felt him exhale slowly, shakily. Her own breathing was getting unsteady. Looking at him now, she thought of when she’d been kidnapped, the night Allison died. Lydia lifted her hand and brought it across his face hard, slapping him before she’d fully realized that’s what she was going to do. She made a noise, an angry sob. Suddenly, there were tears on her cheeks and she was remembering watching Stiles’ old body turn to dust. She was remembering watching Stiles collapse and being afraid - so, _so_ afraid - that she was about to lose him, too.

 

Lydia buried her fingers in Stiles’ hair. She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m glad you’re not dead,” she whispered. “Whatever happened, I’m glad you’re not dead.” Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling it as she kissed him again. She kissed his lips this time and heard a muffled whimper when she bit him. Lydia pulled away. She hadn’t been thinking. Her body felt loose, ready to act on the slightest whim. “Is this all right?” she asked again.

 

Stiles started to nod but stopped. He looked past Lydia, toward the hatchback. Malia. That’s right. Those two had something going on. Lydia was about to move, but Malia looked confused. “What?” asked Malia. “Me? Should I go away?”

 

Lydia didn’t mind an audience. And if Malia didn't mind any of this... She kissed Stiles again, parting his lips with her tongue, pulling his split lower lip with her teeth as she moved down. She kissed his jaw, bit his earlobe, kissed his neck, bit him there too, hard. There was blood on her face when she pulled away. She could feel it cold on her cheeks and mouth when she rocked back, panting in the night air.

 

Lydia looked at Scott. He was staring down at both of them, eyes wide. Lydia was sure they shared a lot of the same conflicting feelings. He didn’t just want to hurt Stiles. Lydia inclined her head at Scott, inviting him down. It was one of those things she was sure would seem like a horrible idea in the morning, but right now it was what she wanted; hell, it was what she needed.

 

Lydia held out her hand, Scott took it. She pulled him down slow, until he was on his knees beside her. She leaned forward, he leaned the rest of the way. They kissed. It was a chaste kiss to start then a deeper one. Stiles’ blood was on Scott’s mouth when they pulled apart. Lydia kept her hand in Scott’s, pulling him down with her when she leaned in to kiss Stiles again. When she pulled away, she looked at Scott. He looked uncertain for a moment, but then his lips replaced her own. He was kissing Stiles and Stiles, slowly, more passively, was kissing him back.

 

“Be careful with your teeth,” Lydia warned Scott, licking the blood from her own. She reached for the waist of Stiles’ pants and slid her fingertips against his skin. She grazed slow circles around his hipbones, waiting for an objection that never came. Stiles reached down without looking, his mouth still against Scott’s. With a trembling hand, he fumbled his jeans unbuttoned.

 

Lydia reached down, groping him through his boxers. He was hard already. She wasn’t surprised. “Scott.” Lydia stood, wobbling a bit on her heels.

 

Scott got the message. He stood too, pulling Stiles up so hard and fast he practically slung him onto the hood of the jeep. That wolf strength seemed to come and go when Scott was drunk.

 

Lydia kicked off her heels and stepped up to the hood of the jeep. Stiles had propped himself up on his elbows and Lydia’s foggy mind was working through the familiar puzzle of getting a guy’s pants off when Scott stepped up behind her. He grabbed Stiles by the legs and pulled.

 

Stiles sat up instinctively and, when he did, Scott grabbed him by the collar. It looked like Scott had intended to kiss him again but then had a sudden moment of clarity, doubt, whatever. They were both waiting for something, faces close, Lydia caged in between their bodies. She rested her hands, to the left and the right, on Stiles’ thighs. She rubbed back against Scott and felt him respond. Had it been anyone else, she might have guided one of his hands to her breasts. She didn’t want that, though. She didn’t want to be too intimate with Scott. She couldn’t help but think of Allison. Stiles between them would be better. Though, if Scott wasn’t going to kiss him again, she would.

 

Lydia rose on tiptoe, stretching up between the two to kiss the side of Stiles’ neck. She felt Scott lean in to the other side to do the same.

 

Stiles moaned. “This isn’t…” He took a shuddering breath. He swallowed and twisted his neck beneath their lips. “This isn’t really what I - ah - had in mind when I suggested-”

 

“Shut up, Stiles.” Lydia locked eyes with Scott as he moved around to Stiles’ throat. There was a look on his face, a hungry one.

 

“Teeth,” she warned again, before using her own; biting Stiles, smearing her lipstick.

 

Scott stepped back. Lydia went with him and, together, they slid Stiles down from the jeep. He seethed when his back scraped the grill.

 

Lydia dropped, taking Stiles’ pants with her. She stripped him from the waist down while Scott did the same from the waist up. “Nails,” she snapped, watching Scott work. “I don’t want to be the threesome police here but, honestly. I hope this is just an exception and you’re normally a gentle lover. I’d hate to see lycanthropy become a sexually transmitted disease in Beacon Hills… Just wait.” As soon as she’d finished undressing her half, Lydia stood. “Let me.”

 

Lydia raked Stiles’ chest with her nails. She’d just given herself a manicure, but it was worth it. She felt him squirm beneath her, felt his skin under her nails. She thought of being in the tunnels with the nogitsune. She thought of it pressing up against her, wearing Stiles’ face. “Get on your knees,” she said. She wasn’t sure what she wanted, but she knew she wanted more. Lydia was feeling insatiable.

 

Stiles dropped to his knees.

 

Lydia walked a ways in front of him. She hummed thoughtfully, looking Stiles over; exposed, bleeding, erect. She crouched down and beckoned him over. Stiles took a deep breath and crawled the short distance to her. He stopped at her outstretched arm, watching her hand as she folded in all but two fingers. “Suck,” said Lydia, and he did. She felt the light scrape his teeth. She felt the roll of his tongue against her first and second knuckles. “Good,” she said, when he started to gag. Her fingers were wet with blood and saliva when she pulled them out.

 

Lydia stood, circling around Stiles then crouching back down. She put one hand on the small of his back, letting him know where she was. She trailed her fingers up and down his spine, watching for an indication that he knew what she had planned. Stiles hung his head, tensing up in anticipation. Lydia didn’t leave him waiting too long; she inserted both fingers.

 

He was tight. Lydia might have told him to relax, but the excess pressure was appealing. She pulled her fingers out slightly then slid them in deeper. She looked back to Scott and found him leaning back against the front of the jeep, staring. “Do you want to?” she asked.

 

“Want to what?” asked Scott, eyes wide.

 

Bless him. Lydia couldn’t tell if he was just drunk or genuinely clueless. Likely both. “Fuck him.”

 

Stiles’ muscles clenched around Lydia’s fingers. He folded his arms on the ground and dropped his head down into them, breathing hard. Lydia smiled. Scott said nothing, but that silence spoke enough.

 

“Come here,” said Lydia, and Scott did. “Open him up.” She removed her own fingers and guided Scott’s, showing him how. “I’ll be right back.”

 

Lydia stood and hurried over to the front seat of the hatchback. She grabbed her purse and riffled through it, fishing lubricant out of one of the the zip compartments. She was about to hurry back but hesitated. So long as she was here… Lydia removed her dress. She was in the process of laying it out over the passenger seat for wrinkle-free safe-keeping when she noticed Malia.

 

Lydia jumped. Dammit, she kept forgetting that girl was there.

 

Malia was sitting on the folded down seats, drinking, sitting turned to face the wall of the vehicle. Of course, she was looking at Lydia now. She didn’t look embarrassed to do it, and Lydia wasn’t exactly embarrassed to be looked at. “Do you want to join in?” asked Lydia, rolling with a whim.

 

“I don’t mind waiting here,” said Malia, like she thought this was something they needed to do alone. All the same, the strained quality of her voice implied she wanted to get involved.

 

“You know these woods pretty well, right?” It was a rhetorical question. “Can you find me a switch? A green one?”

 

Malia raised her eyebrows but nodded at Lydia over the seats and climbed out the back. Lydia watched her disappear into the woods as she walked back to Scott and Stiles. Scott’s hand was moving in slow, languorous circles. Stiles looked up when Lydia came closer, and she saw that his face was red. His jaw dropped slightly now, clearly startled by her current state of undress; not that he hadn’t once seen her more naked than this in these very woods.

 

Lydia squirted some lube into her palm then tossed the bottle to Scott. She went down on her knees and tapped Stiles on the chin, making him sit up straight. She took his cock in her hand, the one slick with lube. She started at the base of the shaft and worked her way up slowly but deftly. His eyes were on her the whole time; all of her. Lydia smiled. “You want to touch me, don’t you?”

 

Stiles nodded.

 

“Don’t,” she warned, tightening her grip just a little, stroking him slow. She could see Scott applying lube himself, cock in hand. Lydia watched him over Stiles’ shoulder. She slid her free hand into her panties, dipping a finger into the wetness and sliding it up near her clit to rub. She chewed on the inside of her mouth while she waited.

 

Stiles gasped when Scott pushed into him. Lydia moved closer to Stiles, keeping him steady. She pressed their bodies as close as they could be with both hands still working. Scott’s hands were on Stiles’ hips, rocking him back into each thrust. Lydia had a very hands-on idea of how long Stiles would last. She wasn’t sure about Scott. A long time, she hoped; at least long enough for Malia to get back.

 

“Lydia.”

 

Well, that didn’t take long. Lydia let go of Stiles and stood, turning to face Malia. She was naked. Not in her underwear like Lydia. _Naked_. She’d taken the invitation seriously. She’d also done what was asked of her. Lydia took the switch and pointed it at the other plant-life Malia had brought along. “What’s that?”

 

It was a vine-like shape, the length of Malia’s arm. She smiled and looped it around Lydia’s waist. Lydia felt thorns dimple her skin. Malia gave a tug, and Lydia stepped closer.

 

“What’s that for?” asked Lydia, arching her back away from the discomfort.

 

Malia shrugged. “I found it on my way back.”

 

“Mmm.” Lydia reached up and pushed a strand of hair back from Malia’s face. “Good girl. I like that sort of initiative. Hand it here and come on.”

 

Stiles had dropped back onto all fours without Lydia there. He and Scott were both panting. Stiles had his eyes squeezed shut. Scott didn’t look like a wolf, but the way he was fucking Stiles was bestial, violent even. It looked like his mind was somewhere else. Lydia wanted to be there, too.

 

“Get up, Stiles.” Lydia lifted his head; pulling his hair with one hand, caressing his face with the other.

 

Stiles did his best to comply. Scott helped, slowing long enough to pull Stiles onto his knees and back against his own body.

 

Stiles looked close. Had Lydia been inclined to, she could have finished him off then and there. Lydia brought the switch hard across Stiles’ left thigh. He jumped, and the switch itself left behind a thin mark, barely visible in the dimly lit dark. Lydia swung it again, hitting the inside of his right leg this time. Stiles jumped again, but not as much the third time and not at all by the sixth. Twelve broke the skin and made him bleed; Lydia leaned in, licking a line of it off. She felt Malia’s bare breasts against her back when she did. She felt Malia’s hair on her shoulders and her lips on the nape of her neck. She felt her bra unfasten.

 

Lydia had been with girls before; usually just in threesomes. She liked guys better, had never dated a girl. She might have made an exception for Allison, if she hadn’t thought it would hurt their friendship. What she’d had with Allison had been so perfect.

 

Lydia leaned back into Malia. She reached for her, angling their heads and finding her lips. Malia’s hands found her breasts and squeezed. Lydia moaned into her mouth. Her attention was drawn back to Stiles when she heard movement. He was on his hands and knees again.

 

“Get that other thing you brought back.” Lydia motioned for Malia and pointed behind Scott. She tapped her own throat.

 

Lydia pushed Stiles back on to his knees, eliciting a frustrated groan from both him and Scott. Malia was ready with the length of brier. She draped it across Stiles’ neck. It was stiff and wouldn’t lay flat, instead grazing his skin when he sat on his knees - a threat of pain if he dropped to all fours again. It cut in a little every time Scott thrust though. Stiles’ seethed through his teeth; hands grasping back at Scott, body shaking with the effort of staying upright and very still.

 

Heart racing, Lydia traced her switch down his body. She traced it over his forehead, the curve of his nose, his lips, snapped it on his cheek. She traced it down his neck, over the thorns, over his throat where blood was beading. Past the dip of his collar bone, snapping at his chest and the pleasant musculature of his sides and abdomen. Down his legs, inside his legs where she’d already whipped him many times.

 

It wasn’t enough.

 

There were tears blurring Lydia’s vision as she stood again. She wiped them away, staggering a bit as she went to stand behind Malia. She replaced Malia’s hands with her own, holding the brier like a garrote. The thorns weren't too sharp, but they were certainly uncomfortable to hold. Lydia ignored it, instead giving Malia an approving nod when the girl turned to face her.

 

Malia was inexperienced, but eager, intuitive. She crouched down, her back to Scott. Malia tugged Lydia’s panties down and spread her with her fingers. Lydia felt her breath and then a light, experimental lick. Malia's tongue made a few slow circles around her clit then tried to get a better angle.

 

She’d had this done to her before, Lydia realized. Probably by Stiles. Probably some time between Eichen House and now. Lydia was filled with that awful feeling again. She was feeling too much right now; guilt, affection, arousal, hatred. Lydia held the thorns tighter, until it hurt, until she’d pulled them tight and Stiles had given a choking sort of gasp.

 

Lydia swung one leg over Malia’s right shoulder. She might have lost her balance, but Malia grabbed her other leg, her waist; _god_ , she was strong. With her better angle, Malia probed deeper. She fucked Lydia with her tongue; deep then deeper every time Scott pulled back from another thrust into Stiles, bumping into the girls so close behind him.

 

There was blood on Lydia’s hands. The thorns were biting into her palms. She pulled tight, tighter until Stiles had to be bleeding, too. He threw his head back, mouth open, trying to suck in a breath that wouldn’t come. Lydia watched him, her insides going cold. Stiles raised one hand and tried to work his fingers between the briers and his throat. His lips formed words no one heard. He raised his other hand and found one of Lydia’s. She felt his fingers twitch, like he wanted to try and force her to let go but stopped himself. His hand moved up her forearm instead; gently, fondly, shaking.

 

The length of brier snapped. Stiles fell forward, Lydia backwards. She hadn’t even realized she was putting her weight into it.

 

Malia caught her. She eased her down to the ground, until Lydia was on her back, one leg still around Malia’s shoulders. Malia grabbed the other leg and pulled it over her shoulder as well.

 

“Good,” Lydia gasped, very nearly upside down. “That’s good. _That_. Keep doing that.” She thought of Stiles, of Scott, of Aiden and Allison. She thought of that cold feeling in her chest and she let it go. Lydia came, her whole body going rigid then limp.

 

Malia pulled her head away and lowered Lydia’s legs. Lydia rode the feeling for a few seconds, reveling in the release, in the sensation of tears and blood and sweat all cooling on her skin. Then she heard a grunt from Scott as he finished too. She sat up suddenly.

 

Shit, Stiles. There was a distinct possibility they had gone too far; a sobering thought.

 

Scott was already rolling Stiles onto his back and leaning over him. Lydia hurried to them both. “Is he all right?” She looked at Stiles and rephrased the question. “Are you all right?”

 

Stiles had his eyes closed. His breathing was shallow but purposeful, like it was a chore. There was a red line across his throat. That and blood. All things considered, there was rather a lot of blood.

 

“Stiles?” Scott reached down and grabbed his bare arm. Lydia jumped when a look of panic swept over him. “I can’t-” began Scott, his voice frightened and stammering. “I can’t take-”

 

“Woah,” said Stiles, cutting Scott off. He opened his eyes wide, blinked rapidly, shut them again. It seemed to be taking considerable effort for him to collect himself, even with a sudden pressing need to. “Chill, Scott,” he gasped, wincing when talking hurt his undoubtedly sore throat. “I’m pretty sure you can’t take my pain because you’re drunk. It’s fine. I’m definitely in pain, though. A lot of it… You guys don’t fuck around… No pun intended.” Stiles offered Scott a smile. It was strained and sort of sad. Scott still looked pretty shaken. Stiles pushed himself up and hugged him. Scott hugged him back, tight. Lydia heard the muffled sounds of crying. Lydia was all cried out just now. She huddled up to them anyway. Scott and Stiles shifted their arms to let her get closer, which she did.

 

For a while they just sat there, heads together, silent. Finally, Scott stood, then Lydia. They had to work together to get Stiles to the hatchback.

 

“I think there’s a quilt in the floor compartment,” said Lydia, pointlessly. Apparently, Malia had already found it. She was bundled up in it before they even got there.

 

“It smells like a dog,” said Malia, moving to the right so that they could all pile in.

 

“It’s Prada’s blanket. For when she goes to the vet.” Lydia let Stiles lean on her shoulder to make the step up and into the back. She climbed in between him and Malia. Scott took the far left. It was a tight fit, all of them back there with empty bottles and a blanket that smelled like dog.

 

It was the most comfortable Lydia had felt in weeks.

 

Scott was snoring in minutes. Lydia wished she’d thought to bring some bottled water. They would all be feeling this in the morning… Some of them worse than others.

 

Lydia looked over at Stiles. “Are you all right?” she asked seriously, whispering.

 

Stiles turned his head to look at her. “Yeah… I mean, no, but… Yeah.”

 

“Is that a yes, overall?”

 

“Yes.” Stiles’ eyes seemed to search her face then. “Are you all right?”

 

“Yes.” Lydia reached down at her side and took Stiles’ hand. She squeezed it. “Well, no… But I think I’m better.”

 

Stiles squeezed her hand back beneath the quilt. “Good.”

 

“Hey.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Did you come?”

 

“Huh?” Stiles had closed his eyes after she had answered his question, but they were open again now.

 

“Out there. A little while ago,” Lydia clarified. “Did you come?”

 

Stiles swallowed wincing slightly when he did so. “I didn’t really get the- ah.”

 

Lydia was already reaching under the covers.

 

Malia, still quite awake, cleared her throat. “I, um, didn’t get to come either… Just saying.”

 

Lydia giggled, quietly, so as not to wake Scott. Her palms still hurt from nearly strangling Stiles, but no matter. She eased under the quilt, reaching in both directions to finish them off. Stiles came first. Malia had to help a little when it came to her own orgasm; masturbating while Lydia kneaded her breasts.

 

When all was said and done, Stiles gave a groan that needed no explaining. It was going to be hell to rationalize all this in the morning. For right now, though… Lydia wiped her hands on the quilt and cuddled back against Malia. Scott had his head on Stiles’ shoulder, Lydia rested her head on the other, giving him a sympathetic smile and a kiss on the chest when he flinched.

 

Malia’s arms were around her as Lydia drifted off. She watched when Malia reached out and took Stiles’ hand, giving it an affectionate squeeze of her own. Lydia didn’t mind this time. She didn’t mind one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> And so ends another fic on my super secret AO3 account for porn. If you care to, you can visit me on my not-so-secret Tumblr: http://fuchsiaprose.tumblr.com/


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